


Long Live the King - On Hold Indefinitely

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU: some live and some die, Angst, F/M, FemBilbo/Fili is endgame, Female Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-03 23:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The King Under the Mountain is dead.Long live the king.Note: This piece is probably going to undergo serious editing at some point so that it can be finished. Until then, it is on hold. Please do not read this if that is going to be a point of contention for you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many other things I should be working on right now, and yet here I am, writing in a whole new fandom. There will be plenty of angst at first, but I promise, someday there will be a happy ending.
> 
> For anyone who is curious about who I picture when writing Bilbo, her name is Julia Sawalha. She played Lydia in the BBC version of _Pride and Prejudice_, and Dorcas Lane in _Lark Rise to Candleford_ (which ended _too soon!_). 
> 
> I do not own _The Hobbit_, nor am I making any profit off of this work.

The large, calloused hand clasped between both of hers had grown limp and cold long before anyone came looking for her. There was too much for everyone to do for anyone to worry about one hobbit lass, particularly as they all knew exactly where she would be. She had spent the majority of the two weeks Thorin had stubbornly clung to life, when she was not visiting his nephews, in this same spot, tending him and waiting for any sign that the King Under the Mountain would wake.

Her hopes were finally, utterly crushed several hours earlier, when he had breathed his last.

She knew she should have called for someone. People would need to be told that their king was no more. Arrangements would have to be made.

Still, she could not bring herself to pull away.

It was the sound of heavy, labored footfalls that dragged her eyes from Thorin’s body at last. She turned and met Fili’s grave gaze and could see the realization dawning in an instant.

He should not be here right now, seeing this. Fili should still have been abed and if she believed for a moment that she could, Bilbo would have chivvied him off back to the tent where he and his brother were supposed to be convalescing. Yet, for all that he was grievously wounded, he was still far too strong to be moved by the likes of her – or anyone else, for that matter, save perhaps Dwalin or Dori – should he wish otherwise.

Fili sagged against a tall-backed chair which Gandalf or Thranduil occupied from time to time, clearly needing to rest after the short journey from the next healing tent over. His gaze was fixed upon his uncle’s still form, and his face was twisted in pain and grief and a bitterness that unsettled her.

“He is gone, then,” he murmured dully, his lips tightening.

The sound of his voice so devoid of life tore at her already bleeding heart. “I am truly sorry, Fili.”

He closed his eyes, yet even so, a tear slipped out, beginning a slow trek down his cheek.

Bilbo could not move him, but she could go to him. Could still offer him whatever comfort he would take. She dragged herself away from Thorin, though not before placing one final kiss to his chilled hand, and then rose from her spot on the edge of his mattress. She walked toward Fili and drew him into her arms, laying her head against his chest. Fili’s own arms were occupied with his crutches, but he pressed back against her as much as he could without causing her to overbalance. She held him as tightly as she dared, given his injuries, and tried to be there for him in the midst of this storm.

To lose a second father in his young life was cruel indeed, to say nothing of the duties now thrust upon him. Her heart broke for the too-young king, and tears of her own slipped unchecked down her cheeks.

They remained there until fatigue and pain forced Fili to sink into the chair, and then he pulled her unresisting body up onto his lap, crutches cast pointlessly aside like a child’s toys, and clutched her to him.

“Stay,” he rasped at one point. “Stay with me. I cannot do this alone.”

“Of course I will stay, Fili. Of course I will. But Kili will wake soon enough, and your mother will come. And all the rest-“ Here, she was forced to stop in order to clear away the stone lodged in her throat. “All the rest of the Company are here. You will never be alone.”

“Aye. I know it, and I am – grateful. But I need you, as well. Perhaps it is selfish, asking to keep you from your home and your garden and your family, but then, we dwarves are a jealous race. So, I am asking you, Bilbo, to stay with me.”

“And I will stay,” she vowed. She would miss Bag End, and her garden, and Hamfast, and Prim, and Drogo, of course, but if Fili truly needed her then Bilbo could not in good conscience go anywhere else.

He pulled away slightly to press a kiss to her brow, and she frowned at him, bemused.

“Fili?”

He stared at her, a bit of fire creeping its way back into his eyes. “I would have no misunderstandings between us, Bilbo,” he told her gently. “I am not asking you to stay as my advisor, or as an honored member of this Company – though you most certainly are – or as my friend. I am asking you to stay as my wife.”

Her eyes widened, and her entire body jolted before growing utterly still.

Never had he expressed any sort of tender feelings for her. There were no signs. For nearly a month now, she had entertained the hope that she and Thorin… but it was not to be. And Fili was so desperately in need of an anchor. Someone who could stand beside him through all that was to come, especially with Kili still unconscious and Dis still so far away. If he believed that she was the person who could help him through the trials now laid at his feet, then who was she to deny him?

She swallowed roughly and then nodded. “I understand, and my answer remains unchanged. I will stay with you, Fili.”

“As my wife? My queen?”

An icy terror shot through her veins at his last words. She would be queen. Already, she had entertained hopes to be the wife of the King Under the Mountain, but the ramifications of that title had been something she had shoved to the back of her mind as something to be dealt with at a later – much, much later – date. “As your wife,” she forced through nerveless lips. “And as your queen.”

He breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank you. You cannot know what this means to me.”

He reached into one of the little pockets which normally concealed one of his many blades and withdrew a small brown leather pouch. From the pouch, he retrieved two mithril beads, both engraved with some sort of symbol.

“These beads were once braided into my father’s hair. They declare the wearer the husband or wife of one of the sons or daughters of Durin. Will you allow me to braid them into your hair?”

She glanced over toward the figure lying upon the bed. “Here? Now?” Would she never be allowed to forget that her marriage to one of the sons of Durin began with the death of another?

With the hand not holding the beads, Fili cupped her cheek, his hand strong but infinitely gentle. “It is an unkind thing that I ask of you, I know. But so much of our lives will be in chaos for so long. It would help, I think, if this was already done.”

She shut her eyes, unable to think while his own earnest blue eyes gazed at her so intently. It was one thing to agree to be married to a friend – a dearly beloved friend, yet a friend even so – and entirely another to actually do it. Yet Fili needed her now – needed her to be strong – and she thought there was some wisdom in his words. She could not profess to know a great many things about the way of peoples who served kings and queens, but she imagined that the dwarves would feel better if they could begin to rebuild their kingdom with the king’s hand secured. The last thing they needed was to suffer through fending off the suits of all of the eligible noble ladies of Middle Earth in the midst of all of their labors to restore the mountain.

“Will I need to braid anything into your hair in turn?” she asked, opening her eyes once she had firmed her resolve. “Do we need witnesses?”

“Aye, I have my mother’s marriage beads as well, but we will need no witnesses. No dwarf could misunderstand the meaning of these beads, and no dwarf would ever braid such beads into their hair in a bid to deceive anyone. To do so would be to shame dwarven marriage, which is a gift from Mahal, our creator.”

“Then yes, Fili. I will allow you to braid the marriage beads into my hair, and I will braid them into yours as well.”

He rubbed his thumb over the ridge of her cheekbone, grown sharp after months of extensive traveling on rations which counted as barely a fraction of what her race normally consumed. “We will be happy together, Bilbo. This, I promise you. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the next day. There is still too much sorrow in our lives for that. But one day, we will be.” So saying, he placed another kiss upon her brow and then combed his fingers through her chestnut hair, grown long on their journey because the Company had raised such an uproar any time she indicated that she wished to trim it to her usual chin length. When he seemed satisfied that there were no snarls to hinder him, he braided two small, intricate braids, one on each side of her head, following the line of her ears and then flowing down to rest upon her shoulders.

Throughout his task, Fili murmured words in Khudzul, and though Bilbo could not understand them, she heard the almost melodic tone to his voice and understood that these words were the words passed down through the generations for when dwarves twined their lives together.

When he was finished with her hair, he pulled out the beads for his own hair. “When we have the time, I will teach you the marriage braids,” he assured her, “but for now, I will braid them myself.”

She watched his practiced movements and listened to the cadence of his voice, and allowed those details to sooth her nerves and settle the knot in her stomach. Performing one of the rites of his people seemed to have settled something within Fili as well. His eyes had lost some of that desolate, lost look, and his work and his words were so sure.

When he put the last of the beads in place, he returned his hand to the curve of her cheek and looked at her with a question in his gaze. She nodded slowly, and then as he began to tilt his head towards hers, she leaned up to meet him halfway, making a silent promise to him that she would do so to the end of her days, no matter what it might cost her in the beginning or along the way.

The King Under the Mountain was dead.

Long live the king.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while since the first chapter, hasn't it? 
> 
> It's not entirely relevant yet, but if anyone is wondering about my fancast for some of the Durins who never made it into the films, Julia Ormond is my choice for Dis. So, we've got Julia Sawalha as Bilbo, and Julia Ormond as Dis. How many Julias do you lot think will wind up being fancast? I suppose it's good Tolkien didn't have that many female characters with significant roles... but that could always change. I mean, Bilbo's a Hobbit lass in this. Who's next? 
> 
> Brad Pitt is my fancast for Dis's husband, not that it's really relevant to this fic at all... but perhaps it'll matter in some other story.

_“Are you well? Fili asked, scanning her for injuries instead of exploring the troll hoard with the others. “Miss Baggins, are you hurt?” He ran his hands over her arms, down her sides, frowning in concern when she flinched. “You are,” he breathed, looking pained and contrite. “Mahal, I should never have sent you on alone.”_

_He really should not have, but he had not acted alone, and he looked guilty enough that Bilbo could not bring herself to add to it. Nor did she wish to alert the others to Fili and Kili’s part in the incident. They were good lads, Fili and Kili, if a bit mischievous. As a Took, and even one severely out of touch with that half of herself, Bilbo could appreciate a bit of mischief - when she was neither the target nor a victim of collateral damage. The brothers were never malicious in their mayhem, nor were they particular in the choice of targets – all in the Company had fallen prey to one stunt or another, save Thorin, though they had not long been on the road – and their antics reminded her of her days spent tromping around the Shire with her more adventurous cousins as a faunt. _

_She could hope, however, that this particular event would teach the two of them to give a little more consideration to the potential consequences of their actions. Even she, as untested in the wilds as she was, could see that insouciance might well get them all killed, as it would have in the wee hours of this morning, had she not stalled until Gandalf arrived to usher in the dawn. _

_“I’ll be alright, Fili,” she soothed, though breathing was intensely unpleasant, pulling as it did on what she felt certain were cracked ribs. The trolls had cared little for her comfort whilst they tossed her about amongst themselves and considered doing all manner of unsavory things to her person, along with the dwarves. If she was never manhandled in such a way again, it would still be too soon._

_Bilbo doubted she would be that lucky on this journey. The dragon was likely to do far worse._

_Fili gave her an unimpressed look. “You are limping, and you cannot breathe without wincing.”_

_“Then perhaps I should stop,” she suggested facetiously. “Clearly, breathing is overrated, and more trouble than it is worth.”_

_He frowned at her, which sat poorly upon a face that was usually given to mild amusement. His brother laughed louder and far more frequently than Fili did, but Kili’s mirth was sudden, like a thunderclap. Fili constantly seemed to find something which put a glimmer in his eye and the faintest of upturns at the corners of his mouth. Someday, she resolved, she was going to find out what grand joke tickled Fili so, though it would not be this day, with his mood so uncharacteristically black. _

_“Come, Miss Baggins. It is my fault you are injured. You should lean upon me while we catch up to the others.”_

_“Now, _really_. I am quite-“ She stopped at the unmoved look on his face. He reminded her more of Thorin in that moment than he had in the weeks they had yet traveled together. There was no arguing with a son of Durin when he was in this sort of mood. Bilbo had already learned this lesson the hard way. “Yes, alright. Thank you, Fili.”_

* * *

Fili and Bilbo sat together in the stillness of Thorin’s tent for as long as they dared. The thought of telling the others of Thorin’s death sapped her body of what little heat she clung to in the cooler climes of the lands in the East. These days, Bilbo felt as though she would never again be warm all the way through. She shivered, and Fili pulled her even closer, rubbing his hands up and down her arms to try and generate a bit of extra warmth. Gradually, she stopped shivering, though Fili continued in his ministrations for some time before stilling his hands.

“Come. We must speak with the Company and with Dain.” He set her gently upon the ground and Bilbo retrieved both of his crutches and presented them to him.

She watched avidly as he lowered himself from the chair, ready to dart forward and steady him to the best of her ability, should he need it. His leg had broken in three places in the fall, and they had, none of them, been clean. One, at his thigh, had pierced the flesh. She and the rest of the Company had been informed it was a blessing from Mahal that Fili had been unconscious whilst the bones were set. His ribs were wrapped as well, as several had broken, but thank Yavanna, his spine and neck were spared.

He moved slowly, but certainly, filled with purpose. He paused at the tent flap and then set his jaw stubbornly and continued on. She followed directly behind him as he made his way out of the tent and into the wan sun that peeked through clouds which refused to lift, and yet had produced no rain in a fortnight.

Dwarves, elves, and Men nodded to Fili as the two of them passed, but save by the Men, Bilbo was largely ignored. Bard’s people – for that was what they would surely become, reluctant though Girion’s heir was to claim his birthright – remembered the risk she took to maintain the peace amongst the free peoples of the East with honor, but the dwarves outside of the Company did not, and the elves save Legolas and Tauriel still took afront at her ability to pass through their halls unseen for days and emerge with their prisoners from right underneath their perfectly pointed noses.

Bilbo had little sympathy for them. They should not have taken her dwarves in the first place.

Thankfully, their journey to the largest tent was brief. Fili made for the long table where Balin and Dwalin sat talking to each other quietly. They both looked older than they had before the battle, and years older than before the start of the journey, though in truth it had not yet been a full year since this adventure began.

What a change several months had wrought. Her thoughts, as ever, were drawn back to the figure lying within the tent that was the site of her recent nuptials, and her heart clenched. What changes, indeed.

When the two brothers caught sight of them, their eyes swiftly fell upon the new braids, and Dwalin choked on air whilst Balin grew more grave, slumping further into his seat as though whatever had kept the steel in his spine for so long had finally been lost. A single tear began to make its way down the elder son of Fundin’s cheek before he sniffed and wiped it away.

“Aye. I thought that might be the way of it,” the elder son of Fundin remarked tiredly. He bowed his head and Dwalin, after coughing to clear his throat, followed suit. “Long live the King Under the Mountain.”

Fili shook his head. “Please, do not bow to me. Long have you been my uncle’s friends and advisors. When we are alone, I am not your king. I am, as ever, your student and your cousin.”

“And you, Your Majesty?” Balin asked knowingly, looking at Bilbo. “What is your desire?”

Bilbo’s ears twitched and then she nodded jerkily. “None of that, now. Just Bilbo will do quite nicely for me, thank you.” She would have none of that titled nonsense amongst her friends, many of whom were now her family as well.

“Dain will have a thing or two to say about this, and none of it will be pretty,” Dwalin warned them, his hands resting against the hilts of his axes automatically, as if already preparing to cleave some unseen threat to Fili and Bilbo in two. Dwalin, Bilbo could see, was doing as he always had: when the way grew harder, and the sorrow threatened to drag him down, he planted himself all the more firmly upon the earth beneath his feet and stood ready to defend the royal family from all those who would seek to do them harm.

Fili shrugged as much as he could whilst putting most of his weight upon his crutches. “I would imagine that our cousin will have many things to say about a great deal, but that is all that he can do. He knows the old ways as well as you and I do, and not even he can challenge them.”

“I’m sorry, the old ways?” Bilbo asked as she pulled out a chair and ushered Fili into it. He truly should not be moving about so much. If he continued on like this, he would undo any progress he might have made in the past two weeks.

In spite of the sorrow that hung over the four of them, Fili mustered a small smirk which he sent in her direction, and Bilbo rolled her eyes at him. _She_ knew she was fussy, and _he_ knew she was fussy, and yet he was the one who decided to bind his life to hers, so what did that say about him?

“I spoke the truth when I told you that we needed no witnesses, but many dwarves now choose to hold a public ceremony. After spending so many years working in the settlements of Men, our people have begun to adopt some of their ways. However, the braiding of the marriage beads is still considered equally binding whether it is performed in private or before a crowd.”

“I wasn’t talking about the marriage rites, lad, and you know it,” Dwalin said, breaking off the brief cultural lesson. “Dain and his men will not take kindly to a Hobbit queen sitting on the throne of Erebor – and especially not this one.”

Bilbo refused to take offense to what someone else might have perceived as a slight against her, knowing Dwalin as well as she did now, and she saw that Dwalin’s words continued to have little effect upon Fili.

“It is fortunate, then,” Fili said with an air of finality, “that Erebor is not their home, and they do not need to remain here after the initial repairs have been made to the mountain and the first group of our people have arrived.”

“Fili,” Bilbo began, starting to grow concerned, “are you certain that this is what you want? That this is what is best?” Fili may believe that their decision was unassailable, but what would happen when the rest of his people – hers too, now, she supposed – did arrive? What would they do if the children of Erebor could not accept having a mere Hobbit lass ruling alongside their king?

At her words, Fili pinned her with a gaze that was stern yet not unkind, and Bilbo shifted in the seat she had taken beside him after seeing that Fili was settled. She was not sure what to do with this new Fili, who had emerged the moment Thorin decided not to take Kili along with them to try and retake the Lonely Mountain, and which had only grown more engrained with everything that followed in the days and weeks after. He was still the friend she had known for most of the journey, but there was a maturity and an authority to him now which had not been there before. This was the dwarven prince who had spent his entire life preparing to one day lead his people, now taking on the mantle of king and finding that it fit him well, though he had not expected to ascend to the throne for many years yet.

“I am quite certain, and even were I uncertain, we would still be wed. What has been done cannot now be undone, as dwarves have no provisions for divorce or annulment within our laws. And I would not even if I could.” He leaned closer, and Bilbo felt compelled to do the same, reacting before the urge to do so even registered within her thoughts. “You said you would stay with me,” he reminded her, his voice barely louder than a light breeze.

She inclined her head, though she continued to hold his gaze, wanting him to be able to see her sincerity. “And I meant it.”

“Then please do not ask me again if I am certain. There are many things at the moment of which I am unsure, but you are not among them.”

Something in Bilbo's chest tightened at his words, and a strange yet not unwelcome warmth spread through her, chasing away some of the chill Eastern air. “Alright, Fili. I won’t.”

“If you two are done?” Dwalin asked, his impatience clear.

Bilbo straightened, feeling whatever had pulled her toward Fili break at the reminder that they were not alone. “Yes, of course. Sorry about that.”

Raising an eyebrow, Dwalin told her, “I don’t need your sorries, lass. I just need to know if His Majesty, here, has a plan for dealing with Dain and his nobles until we’re more established within the mountain.”

Fili grimaced, though whether his expression stemmed from the disparaging tone with which Dwalin had spoken his new title, or at the task of dealing with Dain, or perhaps both, Bilbo could not be certain. “We must hold a ceremony for those who we lost in the battle, but there are still some among the wounded who may be added to their number.”

Bilbo reached out and took his hand in her own beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. Oin believed that Kili would wake, but there was also a chance that he would ultimately be numbered amongst those lost in the wake of the battle.

Squeezing her hand back with the barest hint of pressure, Fili continued, “But first we must establish relations with the peoples of Lake-town and Mirkwood.” Bard and Thranduil had been gracious enough in the two weeks since they were all united against a common enemy, but all sitting at the table were aware of how easily the ties forged between them during the battle could be broken.

Bilbo bit her lip. “What if we – if you – offered Bard and his Men sanctuary within Erebor? At least until the damage to Lake-town can be repaired?”

The look on Dwalin’s face was almost enough to make Bilbo regret putting forth the suggestion. “I already have to watch our cousins from the Iron Hills to ensure none of our Company receive a knife in the back, and now you would have me watching the Men of Lake-town as well?”

“Take comfort, Dwalin. You will not be watching them alone.” Dwalin was the only one who did not flinch and jerk around to catch sight of Nori, who only then stepped fully out of the shadows and into view. The heavily tattooed dwarf merely rolled his eyes and leveled Nori with an unimpressed look.

“The day I take comfort in anything to do with you will be the day I hang up my armor.”

Nori tsked. “So hostile.”

“If we could return to the matter at hand?” Balin suggested mildly.

“We do owe the people of Lake-town for the destruction Smaug wrought in our name,” Fili acknowledged somberly. “Giving them their due share of the treasure and allowing them to take shelter within the mountain would do much to foster good will with them.”

“Perhaps,” Balin allowed. “But there is still the matter of Dain and his army, who will take even less kindly to housing Men in a newly retaken dwarven kingdom than they will to a queen of foreign lineage.”

Bilbo huffed the softest of laughs at the masterful way Balin managed to refer to her race and the explicit assertion that it would be a point of contention with Dain’s contingent, without offering insult. And this was why Balin had served for so many years as Thorin’s chief advisor and steward. The hoary dwarf was a wordsmith and a keen observer of people. She could stand to take lessons from him going forward. Doubtlessly, he would prove instrumental to her endeavors to support Fili in his new role, and to settle into her own.

Nori shrugged. “If you are looking for a way to please everyone, Balin, you are setting yourself up for disappointment. We can, however, smooth our way with Thranduil, if we give him the jewels he desires, which will mean one less group to contend with for a time.”

“You make a fair point, laddie, but I fear it is a task easier spoken of than done. We do not know where the gems are.”

“Is that so?” Nori slipped one hand into a pocket sewn inside the lining of his coat and withdrew a beautiful necklace comprised of white gems which reminded Bilbo uncomfortably of the Arkenstone, though she noted that Nori seemed to be acting entirely normal – for Nori – and these gems, at least, did not emit an eerie glow.

Dwalin growled, though Bilbo could tell it was more out of exasperation than true anger. “And how long have you been wandering around with those gems in your pocket?”

One of Nori’s eyebrows ticked up. “How many days has it been since Girion’s heir took care of our little infestation?”

“Aye,” Dwalin muttered. “I thought as much.”

“Thank you, Nori, for locating those so that we may give them to their rightful owner,” Fili interjected before Nori could say something to truly provoke his late uncle’s closest friend and dissolve this meeting into chaos they could ill afford. When they were on the journey to the mountain, they had plenty of small squabbles and disputes amongst themselves (Bilbo and Thorin especially had their quarrels, though calling them quarrels when Thorin so often had the upper hand seemed far too generous. Then Bilbo experienced a moment of utter madness she to this day could not quite believe had been real, and threw herself between Thorin and Azog, earning herself both Thorin’s respect and his heart.), though they had always been able to set those petty disagreements aside the moment danger arose. Here, with the eyes of three separate holdings upon them, they needed to present a united front in order to discourage others from believing there were rifts within the Company that they might exploit, particularly when they were dependent upon two of those holdings for supplies and safety.

Nori gave an ironic dip of his head. “I live to serve.”

Bilbo saw Fili’s lips twitch, but the smile died before it could even halfway begin to form. His energy was clearly flagging, and with it, his ability to push through the grief of his uncle’s loss. “Is there anything else that we can do at the moment, or should we send for the others and then deliver the news to Dain?” She needed them to get everything done as quickly as possible so that she could cajole Fili into returning to the tent he shared with his brother to get some rest.

The four dwarves exchanged inquiring looks and then Balin told Nori to gather the rest of their number.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, those of you who have left kudos and comments on the story so far, and welcome to any newcomers. I honestly thought we'd be past the point where they told Dain now, but the story keeps growing. Next chapter, though. It's going to happen. And then we can move on to more interesting things.

_A few days after the troll incident, Bilbo’s ears twitched, and she perked up from where she was leaning against Kili. He and his brother had been taking turns helping her along when the way grew too rough, and for the last few hours, it had been Kili’s turn. Bilbo would have felt embarrassed about relying on the two brothers if Kili had not insisted it was a good excuse for them to get to know her better – and to make amends. Bilbo had already more than forgiven them, but they were dwarves, and sons of Durin, at that, and to them, it was a matter of honor. They took their honor seriously indeed, and so Bilbo decided to simply go along with it._

_“Kili,” she started, her murmur full of hope, “is that water I hear?”_

_He cocked his head and concentrated, the usual easy-going expression on his face replaced with one of intent._

_“I believe it is.”_

_Bilbo felt a swell of euphoria and then wondered at herself. To think that something so simple and commonplace as the chance for a bath could give her such joy._

_Oh, she had luxuriated in the baths she took at home, to be sure, but now the mere idea of a bath, even in a cold river in the wilds, made her spirits, which had been rather low due to the loss of the ponies and the pain in her leg and sides, begin to soar._

_Kili raised his eyebrows, most likely in response to whatever he saw in her face, but then he called out to his uncle at the head of the group. “We’re coming up on what sounds like a stream,” he explained when Thorin turned to look at him. “I thought it might be a good time to rest. We can refill our water skins and have our midday meal… and perhaps a bit of a wash.”_

_Thorin eyed his youngest nephew and then smiled slightly in approval, calling for the others to stop at the stream._

_Bilbo reached up with the hand not wrapped around Kili’s waist and patted him on the chest. “Thank you. Let’s go first and then I’ll switch off with Bombur so he may have a turn.”_

_“Us?” Kili asked, his voice oddly high for a moment._

_“Well, of course. I need someone to stand watch while I bathe. I don’t doubt that you all are honorable dwarves, but accidents do happen, and who knows? We may not be the only ones out here. We did, after all, encounter the trolls only a few nights ago. You have the sharpest eyes and ears of anyone in the Company. You’ll know if someone is coming long before the others would.”_

_Kili’s face cleared of his brief confusion the more she explained, and he stood a little straighter, and Bilbo caught Fili giving her a grateful look._

_Thorin also caught her eye when Kili was not looking and dipped his head. Bilbo thought she might faint at that. Goodness, if this was what came of complimenting Kili, even a little bit, she would have to start doing so more often._

_Together, she and Kili began to make their way from the rear to the head of the group, and so they were the first to arrive at the small stream. They stopped and the rest of the Company began to set up in a clearing not too far away._

_Kili helped her down a rather steep slope and to the bank of the stream. Then he found a small boulder to perch upon, his back facing her._

_“Take as long as you like, Miss Boggins.”_

_Bilbo snorted, as Kili had known she would, and began to strip. The first time Kili had called her Miss Boggins, he had not known better. Now he simply did it to make her laugh. “Thank you. I think I shall.”_

_Throwing propriety to the wind, Bilbo removed everything, from her father’s deep red coat, to her golden yellow bodice, to her father’s leather belt and brown trousers, to her white blouse which was beginning to look more cream from the dirt and grime of travel, to her smalls. Everything had to come off and be thoroughly cleansed of the stench of troll._

_She took the first item of clothing into the stream with her and began to scrub vigorously, gritting her teeth at the frigid temperature of the clear, bubbling water as it flowed around and past her shaking thighs. She dug her toes into the light grey stones beneath her feet, using the friction to start scraping off the dirt from their road._

_“Kili,” she said through chattering teeth, “I could kiss you right about now.”_

_“Perhaps not right this moment, Miss Boggins,” Kili replied, laughter in his voice._

_Bilbo laughed as well. What would her Baggins relatives think of her now? “No, I suppose not.” She stared down at the coat in her hands and then shook her head at her own wooly-headedness. “Though it might be even longer than I thought before that would be prudent. I do not have a change of clothes.” _

_She had packed what was left of the food in her pantry, a small knife and whetstone, some herbs for ailments, torn sheets for bandages, and her pipe and a generous bag of Old Toby, but not a stitch of spare clothing. By the time she had thought to do so during her mad dash to get out of her smial and go haring off after the dwarves, her pack had been too full. It had never been intended for such a long journey, after all. It was the pack she had used on her rambles with her mother and cousins as a faunt._

_“Ah,” Kili said. “Not to worry. We can fix that easily enough. Are you facing the other way, Miss Boggins?”_

_“Kili, you are keeping watch while I bathe in a stream out in the middle of nowhere. I think you can probably call me Bilbo by now.”_

_“Fair enough. Are you?”_

_“Yes, I am.”_

_“Good,” he declared. “Keep it that way.”_

_“What-?”_

_Kili proceeded to hoot once like a barn owl and twice like a brown owl, and Bilbo looked over her shoulder to stare at the back of his head briefly, wide-eyed. _

_“What a minute. So, when Fili told me to give that call the other night, he wasn’t making that up?”_

_“Not at all. He and I have been using that signal since were pebbles.”_

_Bilbo’s eyes widened further and she whipped her head back around to focus quite intently upon the task at hand._

_She heard Fili arrive and ask his brother what was wrong._

_“Miss B- Bilbo needs to borrow something to wear while her things dry.”_

_Bilbo ducked low into the stream and dunked her head, choosing to ignore the rest of the exchange. She needed to move more quickly anyway. If she stayed in this water much longer, she was likely to catch hypothermia._

_When at last all her clothing and her person were as clean as they could possibly be, she got out and spread all of her things out to dry, and found a dark, steel-blue tunic waiting for her._

_She wrung out her hair as best she could and pulled on the tunic, which fell past her knees, and belted her sword and scabbard on over it. It felt quite odd to be wearing someone else’s shirt without her smallclothes on underneath, or a bodice or vest over it to keep things contained, but the shirt was soft and warm, and it preserved her modesty well enough for the time being._

_“Thank you, Kili,” she said. “I do believe it is your turn.”_

_He smiled at her brightly. “You’re welcome. Durin blue suits you.”_

_“Oh,” she said lamely. They had their own shade of blue? She looked at the tunic again and noted that it did look quite a bit like Thorin’s. “Thank you.”_

_Kili helped her back up the bank and over to Fili, who was waiting several yards away with his back turned to them._

_“Brother,” Kili greeted him pleasantly. “If you wouldn’t mind escorting the lady.”_

_Fili turned and looked at her, taking in her appearance with a slightly stunned look. He shook whatever it was that had so startled him off and offered her his arm. “Miss Baggins,” he said mock-officiously._

_She huffed a quiet laugh. “I believe, since I am borrowing what I believe is your shirt, you may call me Bilbo as well.”_

_Fili grinned at her with just the faintest hint of cockiness, reminding her of the night they met, and nodded. “Bilbo, then. That color looks well on you,” he commented as he began to lead her back to the Company. _

_Bilbo blinked at him. “Thank you. Your brother said something similar.”_

_“Did he, now?” Fili asked, an odd note in his voice._

_“Yes. Though he gave it a name. Is this really called Durin blue?”_

_“It is,” Fili confirmed. “It is the color of our house.”_

_“Should I be wearing it then?”_

_Fili seemed unconcerned. “As Kee and I said, Bilbo. It looks well on you.”_

_Bilbo had the strangest feeling that she was missing something rather significant, especially when they entered the clearing and Thorin glanced at her and then did a double-take, looking at her as though he was seeing her for the first time, before his expression grew thoughtful and he eventually looked away._

_She decided to dismiss it, though, in favor of something far more important. “Here, Bomber. I’ll see to that stew if you want to go and have a bit of a wash. I feel like an entirely new Hobbit.”_

_“Thank you, Miss Baggins,” the quiet, genial dwarf said warmly. “I think I shall.”_

_With that, he and half of the Company drifted off to join Kili, Fili among them, though not before snagging Bilbo’s water skin. “I’ll just refill this while I’m at it,” he said with a wink._

_She sent him a bright look as she stirred the contents of the large pot Bombur had been laboring over. “Thank you, Fili.”_

* * *

When Nori returned to the tent, his brothers, Bifur, Bofur, and Bomber, Oin and Gloin, followed in his wake. Gandalf brought up the rear, and when Bilbo sent Nori a questioning glance, he raised his shoulders in a light shrug. Bilbo had expected to address the rest of the Company without their more transient member present, as it seemed like a moment for only those among them who had been there through the whole of their journey.

There was a bond between all of them that was inescapable when traveling with the same group of people for so long, and enduring so many of the same dangers, all for a joint cause. Bilbo had been heartbroken when that bond apparently frayed after she delivered the Arkenstone into the hands of Bard and Thranduil, but she now believed that it was a result of spending so much time around the gold within the treasury of Erebor. Thorin had been the one most affected, but many of the Company were Durins, and all had a love of precious gems and metals, as Mahal had instilled within his children.

Bilbo shoved thoughts of that dark day away, reminding herself that all of her dwarves were themselves once more.

“What’s this about, lads? Bilbo?” Bofur asked once they all arranged themselves reasonably comfortably. They were in the largest tent, primarily reserved for meetings amongst the leaders of the Men, elves, and dwarves gathered, but it still had its limits. Eleven dwarves, a wizard, and a Hobbit rather stretched those limits.

“We have some news,” Balin replied somberly, though he addressed his words to all those newly arrived.

“Well, let’s have it, then,” Gloin said in his usual gruff and impatient manner.

Fili shifted next to Bilbo, and she squeezed his hand, which she had not released while they waited. He returned the gesture and then announced quietly, “Thorin is gone. As of today… I am now King Under the Mountain.”

Gloin uttered an oath, Oin said, “Eh? What’s that you say, laddie?” Bofur removed his hat, and Ori began to sniffle. The rest, save Gandalf, bowed their heads. Gandalf simply sighed and took out his pipe and a bit of pipe weed, looking weary and resigned. Bilbo wondered how many people the grey wizard had lost during his time in Middle Earth. What must it be like to live as the elves and the Istari did, knowing so many among the mortal races only to part with them what probably seemed a cruelly short time later? How did they bear it? Was that why Gandalf seemed more concerned with the success of his plans than with the people he chose to carry them out? They were all fated to die soon regardless. Bilbo shuddered. What a lonely, cold existence.

The way Dori eyed Fili and raised his eyebrows before his gaze fell upon Bilbo drew her out of her rather maudlin thoughts. “That is a very interesting set of beads you are wearing, Miss Bilbo, in a very specific pattern. And you were not wearing them when I saw you last,” he noted, his tone mild yet clearly demanding an explanation.

She and Fili exchanged a glance and then Fili told Dori, “I asked Bilbo to be my wife. She accepted.”

Gloin’s face turned red, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “And how long had Thorin been dead when this happened?”

“Watch yourself, cousin,” Dwalin growled forbiddingly.

“I will not apologize,” Gloin stated. “I only asked what Dain and every one of his ilk will ask when this is made known to them. They may not know what was between Thorin and the lass before, but they will not soon forget that it was she who gave the Arkenstone to the Men and the elves, and that she was banished from Erebor for it.”

Bilbo closed her eyes. “There was never a formal understanding between us, Gloin. And he took back his words and actions at the gate before he fell unconscious on the field. The banishment has not been under effect in two weeks, as you well know, or I would already be on my way back to the Shire.” Fili’s hand twitched around her own, and her eyes flew open to glance at him and catch the way his jaw was clenched before Gloin spoke again.

“Well, there will be no going back to the Shire now, lass. Not now, and possibly not ever. Are you prepared for that, Your Majesty?” He used her new title deliberately, and Bilbo flinched.

“Is anyone ever truly prepared for such things?” she asked, rather than admit outright that she was in no way prepared, and would very much like to wake up now, in a time before all of this was set in motion. Perhaps the day before they found the door into the mountain. If Bilbo could do it all over again, she felt certain she would do it quite differently, and then maybe Thorin would still be alive.

She had not even kissed him before making her way into the treasury to see if Smaug still lived and to hunt for that stupid stone. Why? Why had she not done that? She should have kissed him, though considering such an oversight whilst holding the hand of his nephew and wearing his nephew's marriage beads felt disloyal to Thorin and Fili both.

She should have done many things, but dwelling on the past would not mend it, and she needed to do her best to live in the present. Those who remained deserved that from her, especially now that she was to be queen, terrifying though the prospect might be.

“Most are at least more prepared than you,” Gloin pointed out, almost as though he had heard the direction of her thoughts. There was no animosity in his voice now, and the blood had finally flowed away from his cheeks and neck, leaving them free of their earlier ruddy hue.

Bilbo sighed. “That is certainly true, but it is done, Gloin. And I have been reliably informed that it cannot be undone.”

“We asked you here so that we might tell you before we inform Dain, and so that you might be with us when we do,” Fili cut in.

“And a good thing you did, too,” Dori replied, his gaze once more upon Bilbo. “I kept my peace about it before, but now that you are queen, Miss Bilbo, something really must be done. You cannot continue to wander around this camp in those rags.”

Raising her eyebrows, Bilbo asked, “Is this really the most pressing matter? Dain needs to be notified, arrangements will need to be made, and we will need to let Thranduil and Bard know as well. I hardly see how my wardrobe is such cause for concern.”

“No, Dori is right, lass,” Balin told her. “A queen has a certain image to uphold.”

Truly? Their king laid dead in a tent not too far away, and they were worried about her queenly image? “Well, what do you suggest we do?”

“Leave that to me,” Dori said before sketching a bow at Bilbo and Fili and then departing from the tent.

Bilbo stared after him and then turned to look at the others still gathered. “Are there any other strange concerns anyone would like to voice, or do you think we might turn to more salient issues?”

No one seemed inclined to say anything, and so they began to discuss what would need to be done for the funeral and for their impending return to the mountain. By the time Dori returned with a bundle of cloth in his arms, most of the details had been covered.

“Miss Bilbo, if you would come with me, please?”

Bilbo glanced at Balin, Dwalin, and Fili, but none of them seemed inclined to object, and so she at last drew her hand out of Fili’s and slid carefully down from her chair. She followed Dori, who took her to the tent he currently shared with his brothers.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me, Miss Bilbo,” Dori told her, setting his burden down upon one of the three cots – the one with the carefully made mattress and blankets, she saw, which likely belonged to him.

“Thank you, Dori,” she sighed with a certain amount of asperity.

Once she was alone, she stared down at the bundle for a few moments and then began to shrug out of her father's shredded, stained, and thinning coat, followed by her sword and scabbard, mithril mail, her bodice, the blouse which was now a mixture of brown and yellow and black stains, and what remained of her father’s trousers. She spotted a steaming pot of water sitting on a low table, along with a cloth and some soap, and she mustered a small, grateful smile. If she was going to put on fresh clothes, she would prefer to be a little cleaner, first.

After scrubbing every inch of her skin until it smarted, she turned back to the bed, shivering as the water, which had initially been scalding, dried rapidly on her exposed flesh. Even in the tent, the low temperatures were a menace, chilling her inside and out.

She turned back to the bed and then she unfolded the bundle, which was apparently a yard of black fabric folded about another bundle. At the top of this one was a dress, in a very specific shade of blue.

She stared down at the thick, rich blue fabric, which she strongly suspected was until today a tunic, and tried to shove away the memory of piercing blue eyes drinking her in as though for the first time. She forced herself to pick up the chainmail and put it back on, though the mithril had cooled rapidly once it was no longer near her body, and it gave her a chill to have it flush against her skin. Then she picked up the dress and pulled it on over her head. The sleeves, which on a dwarf would come to about midway down his upper arm, came down to her elbows, and there was a fine geometric pattern in muted red outlining the laces at the front. The hem reached past her knees, and there were darts in the back, gathering the fabric closer against her body so that it would not hang shapelessly like a sack, but highlight what little remained of her figure after the ravages of the quest. There was a muted red sash which matched the embroidery, along with a sweater, and she tied the sash about her waist, followed by her sword and scabbard. She pulled on the sweater and rolled up the sleeves so that they allowed her hands to remain free, and pulled her hair out from the neckline of the dress. Then she drew in a deep breath before removing her ring from the pocket of her father’s coat and clutching it tightly within her fist. She forced herself to walk away from the remnants of her father’s things. They were only clothes, after all, and not nearly whole clothing, at that. It was utterly ridiculous that she should feel the loss of them so keenly.

Stepping out of the tent, she asked Dori, “Would you happen to have a bit of cord or a ribbon I might borrow?”

“Let me see what I have in the tent, Miss Bilbo,” he told her, looking over her new outfit with approval. He did not ask what the cord or ribbon was for, and for that, Bilbo was grateful. She still had not told anyone about her ring, and she did not wish to discuss it with anyone now, when there were so many other things which were far more important.

She had the nagging feeling that this was not entirely the truth, but she brushed that away. Bilbo was not in the habit of lying to herself, so she saw no reason that she should have started now. Dori returned with a selection of ribbons, and Bilbo requested one that matched her sash and embroidery. She had no idea where Dori had acquired the ribbons, nor the sweater and the tunic which was now a dress, and she felt no need to inquire after the source. Dori was nothing if not a stickler for propriety. He would not have done anything untoward in order to procure the items. His brother, on the other hand…

“Thank you, Dori. Why don’t you lead the way back to the others?”

He eyed her curiously but complied, turning to lead her in the direction of the meeting tent. As they walked, Bilbo surreptitiously threaded the ribbon through the ring and turned the ribbon into a necklace, pulling it over her head and hiding it beneath her dress to rest against the mithril coat of mail. It felt oddly heavy against her neck, and she worried faintly that the ribbon would not be strong enough to hold it. She would need to see about finding a chain necklace for it once they returned to the mountain. Surely there would be something suitable somewhere amongst all of that gold and finery.

They reached the others, and Bilbo returned to Fili’s side. He said nothing about her new clothes, but she caught something that looked strangely like pride in his bright blue eyes, so she supposed she must look passable enough.

He took her hand again and then looked to Balin. “Let us send for our cousin.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is most likely the longest chapter, though I may wind up surprising myself. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, just because it involves Dain, and I don't feel like I have a firm grasp of Dain as a character, but I could either continue to critique it to death and never post it, or I could just accept that I'm never going to be one hundred percent happy with this one, and actually get it up sometime this year.
> 
> As you can see, I ultimately chose the latter option.

_The brown cloaked-wizard, who was even more singular than Gandalf, led the orcs and wargs away from the Company, and Bilbo stared after him in alarm. He may have seemed a bit touched, but she certainly did not wish for any misfortune to befall him._

_When she turned back, Fili stood before her. Swiftly, he told her, “You can thank me – or scold me, whichever you would prefer – later.”_

_“Thank you for wha-“_

_Before she could complete the question, she had her answer, and wished that she did not. Fili swept her up as though she weighed no more than a faunt and began to run with her held over his broad shoulder._

_“Put me down! I’ll only slow you down, and my feet and legs work just fine!” The feeling of her own weight driving her still-healing ribs into Fili's shoulder was one that Bilbo could have lived a thousand lifetimes without. She would throw herself to the ground and at the mercy of the orcs if she had the strength to fight against Fili’s secure hold._

_Fili chose not to answer her, likely in an effort to conserve his air. Sensible, that. Not quite as sensible as it would be if he put her on her own two feet and worried about himself instead of wasting his strength on her, though._

_What followed was quite a bit of running and passing her among the other members of the Company like a favored child at family gatherings, all of whom refused to return her to the ground, and then they were surrounded by a group of mounted elves._

_Bifur, who was the last one to receive her, ushered her into the middle of the group, where Fili and Kili took up positions on either side of her once her feet were finally firmly planted in the earth once more, warning hands resting upon their weapons of choice and fierce glares leveled at the elves._

_“Oh, honestly,” Bilbo muttered under her breath before pasting on a polite smile she learned from many years of her mother and father entertaining guests, raising her voice, and greeting the elven cohort. There was no telling what would pass between the two groups if she left them to their own devices._

_“Hannon le,” she called warmly. “Our thanks for driving off the orc pack.”_

_One of the elves – the leader, she would guess – dismounted and removed his helmet. “Hannon le, Mistress Hobbit. Tell me, my lady: are you related to Belladonna Took? You have the look of her.”_

_Before settling down with Bungo Baggins, Belladonna Took spent several long years traipsing all over this side of the Misty Mountains, in between returning for short stints in the Shire to share all that she had seen and done with her slightly less adventurous siblings and cousins. The only other Hobbit among them to travel so far away was Bilbo’s uncle Hildifons, who set off one day not long after Bilbo was born and never returned. If Belladonna had not had Bungo, Bilbo, and the memories of her travels, the loss of her favorite brother would have destroyed her. Among her favorite stories she shared with those willing to listen were those of her time spent in the company of the elves of Rivendell, learning history from those who had lived it, and learning their language and culture._

_“I am Belladonna, called Bilbo,” this admission caused some surprised muttering amongst the dwarves, as she had only ever used her chosen name around them, but she felt that it would be appropriate to share with one who remembered her mother, “her daughter, though she was Belladonna Baggins when she passed.”_

_A shadow fell over the fair one’s face. “It grieves me to hear of her passing. She was a wonderful woman and a good friend. I am sorry for your loss.”_

_Her mother had been gone for nearly thirty years and thinking of her death still cut through her like the edge of a broadsword. Her father’s loss had been difficult to bear, to be sure, but Bilbo had ever been her mother’s daughter, and losing her had been more painful than it would have been if Bilbo had severed a limb. She suppressed the reminders of her old grief and returned to the matter at hand._

_“Thank you, master-?”_

_“Forgive me. I am Elrond, lord of Rivendell. I bid you welcome and ask that you take food and rest within my halls.”_

_She flicked her gaze around the dwarves surrounding her protectively and raised an eyebrow at Elrond. Immediately, Elrond extended the invitation to her companions, as well. They all looked near mutiny at the offer, but Bilbo turned wide, hopeful eyes upon them and sagged against Bifur more overtly, trying to appear as helpless and worn as she felt, and the rest of the Company caved with poor grace._

_Bilbo sighed. That could have gone better, but it also could have gone far, far worse. Now if only she could find some way to prevent the dwarves from making the same sort of mischief in Rivendell as they had made in her smial…_

* * *

The wan light was already beginning to fade when Dain and those counsel members hail enough to fight for him made their way to the area the Company created to allow their two parties to meet comfortably.

Fili sat upon a chair in deference to his injuries, with Bilbo standing at his right hand and Balin at his left, though that would traditionally be Kili’s place. Bilbo felt an ache for the young prince and silently urged him to hurry up and wake so that he could put an end to this agonizing uncertainty. Then she stood up straighter and reminded herself firmly to remain in the present and stop worrying about things she had not the power to change.

As was the case with many things, it was easier said than done.

Dwalin stood beside Bilbo, and the rest of the Company ranged out on either side of them. Torches driven into the dirt gave off light and heat – a concession to Bilbo and Gandalf’s poorer eyesight, though none of the dwarves said so. Between the two groups, a bonfire gave off even more warmth, and it lit up the late afternoon sky, reflecting off of the clouds above them and turning them a deep red.

It was a good thing that they had already reminded the orcs in the area why it was a foolish idea to challenge the combined might of the free peoples, Bilbo thought, or all this fire out in the open and so late in the day would drag them into a confrontation they could ill afford.

“Good evening, cousin. I see you are finally out of that bed you’ve been lazing about in for the past fortnight,” Dain called out pleasantly. Bilbo did not trust it. All those gathered knew how swiftly that calm veneer could crack.

Fili inclined his head. “Staying still has never been to my liking. I am glad to be moving again.”

Dain nodded approvingly. “Spoken like a true son of Durin.”

Bilbo stifled a huff. Could males of any race aside from Hobbits not express concern and gratitude for one another without all of this bluster and machismo?

“Now, then. Your dwarf there sounded fair urgent when he came to my tent just now. What news, cousin?”

Clenching his jaw, Fili announced, “The worst sort, I am afraid. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, is dead.”

Dain’s face fell, and he and his counsel members bowed their heads. “Ah, Thorin. To have worked so hard for so long, only to fall just when all he had ever dreamed of was finally in his grasp. I am sorry, lad, that you have lost your uncle. It is a terrible blow.”

Bilbo fought against the gasp which threatened to escape her throat. She may have been new to issues concerning royalty, but even she knew better than to refer to Fili in such a manner in mixed company. Perhaps if it had been Dain, Fili, and a few of their kin, and Fili and Dain were close it might have been acceptable. Yet Dain was not a member of the Company, and so he could not claim the same right to informality as Fili granted those who had been with him on the quest. It had been a stretch already for Dain to call Fili cousin, but to call him _lad?_ It was extremely poorly done of Dain, and she dearly wished she could call him out for it.

“It is, but I am a dwarf, _cousin,”_ Fili said pointedly. “Dwarves are made to endure. The loss of our king is one felt by us all, but we will carry on. Thorin would have wanted it that way.”

“Yes, of course. If there is anything that I or my people might do for you and yours, don’t hesitate to ask. In fact – you have no counsel until your lady mother brings your people from Ered Luin. Why don’t I appoint some members for a counsel in the interim?”

And ensure that any progress they might make ground to a halt because of petty bureaucracy? Most assuredly not. Any counsel appointed by Dain would be certain to report their work to him, and then they would be both slow and victims of espionage. No, thank you. Bilbo wondered what made Dain believe that Fili could be that naïve.

Perhaps it was simply foolish optimism. Dain had not been around Fili long enough to understand what manner of dwarf he was. Fili was fair-minded and reasonable, but he was not given to allowing others to walk all over him or to deceive him. Beneath that easy disposition lay a will of mithril, capable of withstanding even the most punishing hits and the slyest of stabs, and from what Bilbo had seen recently, that stubbornness had only increased in the wake of the battle.

When the gold sickness had taken her dwarves, Fili and Kili had been the ones to fight its pull the hardest. Perhaps some of it stemmed from a reduced amount of time spent exposed to the treasury, but either way, Fili was the one who protected her from Thorin, his own uncle, when the then-king discovered what he declared treachery and sought to fling her from the ramparts.

Fili was _fierce_, and he was not one Dain wanted to trifle with, though Dain would not understand this until it was far too late. Bilbo rather thought she would enjoy watching Fili show Dain and any other detractors what he could do.

“Though that is very kind of you, Dain, I do have a counsel. They stand before you now.”

Dain blinked and then shook his head. “Excuse me. M’ears must not be working properly. All that noise from the battle, aye?”

Impassive, Fili informed him, “You heard me clearly enough. These dwarves are my counsel until the rest of our people arrive from Ered Luin, and if any of them wish to remain so when our people do arrive, then they may.”

“Lad-“

Fili’s eyes flashed. “That is the second time you have been so disrespectful, cousin. I would not encourage you to try for a third. You may feel that you are free to show such discourtesy to the elves of the Woodland Realm and to the Men of Lake-town, but I will tell you now such a performance will not be welcome here. The battle is over, and I intend to invite the people of Lake-town who remain to reside with us until their homes may be rebuilt. If you feel that you would be better served elsewhere, you may take your dwarves back to the Iron Hills.”

“Now, Fili-“ Dain started, beginning to realize the amount of trouble he might have made for himself.

Fili did not allow him to finish whatever that thought might have been. “What will it be, Dain? Will you stay here and aid us in reclaiming the mountain, or will you depart and allow Men to be the ones to restore her to her former glory?”

After considering his intractable cousin silently for a moment, Dain sketched a fairly respectful bow and declared, “The dwarves of the Iron Hills will see the mountain restored, Your Majesty.”

With a single, slow nod, Fili acknowledged Dain’s capitulation. “We will still host the people of Lake-town if they are amenable, but we will be glad of your aid.”

Learning that there would be Men living within Erebor left Dain with a vague look of nausea, but he voiced no outright objections.

“There is more news, though this is far more pleasant.” Fili held out his hand to Bilbo, and she took it within her own, struggling against the nerves abruptly crowding her stomach. “King Dain, please allow me to introduce to you Belladonna Baggins of the Shire, called Bilbo, honored member of Thorin’s Company, and now, my wife.”

There was instant chaos among the dwarves of the Iron Hills as they all began shouting and fighting to get close enough to examine Fili and Bilbo for the presence of the marriage braids and declare that there must be some way to put a stop to this insult to the house of Durin. Many of the counsel members expressed sentiments toward Bilbo she had already known about, though she had not realized they felt them so keenly, nor that they would be so bold as to express them when she was surrounded by her dwarves.

Bilbo dearly wished to clap her hands over her ears and then use the cover of the much larger dwarves all about her to slip away somewhere to hide. Her free hand drifted up to her neck to feel about for the ribbon laying there. As the arguments raged on, she fought her own battle against the desire to put on the ring and simply disappear.

To do so would be to abandon Fili in the face of this mess, though, and she would not do that. She would be a poor wife indeed if she turned away at the first difficult moment.

She snorted at herself, the sound going unnoticed amidst the din of the dwarves. Every moment of her marriage thus far had been difficult. At all times, she yearned for the heart and the beads of another dwarf, now completely lost to her, and she could not even confide in her closest friend among the dwarves, as he was the one to whom she was now married.

Finally, Dwalin lost patience with the rampant stupidity and the potential risk to his charges, and he called out something in the guttural language of his people, halting all of the arguments at once. It was a good thing, too, as Gloin and Oin appeared to be on the verge of coming to blows with some of Dain’s counsel members. They had trouble enough without allowing actual bloodshed to come between the dwarves newly of Erebor and the dwarves of the Iron Hills.

“Thank you, Dwalin,” Fili said, breaking the abrupt silence. “Understand this: I will hear no words spoken against my wife. If any among you find that you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head, you may leave.”

The rest of the meeting was spent discussing the transition from the camp to the mountain. It was only when the sky would have long since been black, absent the light of the bonfire, that the meeting drew to a close.

When Dain and his men departed to return to their tents for the evening, Bilbo swayed where she stood. Dwalin caught hold of the upper arm closest to him and kept her upright. All those nights staying up to ensure that Thorin was still breathing were catching up to her, it would seem. She supposed now she might actually get some rest, though she was not sure where. She had been staying with Thorin, but that seemed entirely inappropriate now, and now that she had been away from the tent this long, she found she did not wish to share it with the husk of the dwarf she had loved. That still body was not Thorin. Thorin had been full of passion and fire and the unyielding drive to see his people restored to their former lands and prosperity.

“Right, then. Food and bed for you and Fili,” Dwalin declared firmly.

Bilbo blinked blearily. “What? No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Let’s just get Fili back to his tent and make sure we put all of this out,” she protested, gesturing vaguely toward the torches and the bonfire. The last thing they needed was for the entire tent city to go up in flames because they allowed themselves to grow careless.

Dwalin shook his head. “Do not think for a moment that I will hesitate to throw you over my shoulder, _Your Majesty_. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.”

“You wouldn’t,” Bilbo gasped. “People will be _watching!”_ Oh, she could only imagine what Dain’s dwarves would say about her then.

“Then you’d best not try me, aye?”

Bilbo rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. The blame for that headache lay solely at the feet of all the dwarves in her life, and particularly this one, at least at that moment. “Yes, alright.” She allowed Dwalin to steer her somewhere, barely paying heed to the direction.

She blinked and found herself holding a bowl of stew and a spoon, and then she blinked again and there were hands lifting her up and laying her down on a mattress that did not feel quite right. It was too firm and oddly misshapen, and beneath her ear came a faint, regular thumping sounds. Her eyelids were too heavy to open, but a strong inhale brought to her nose the scent of leather, steel, sweat, and something uniquely Fili, and she knew that she was safe. A distant corner of her mind pointed out that she would not normally accept such an arrangement with so little protest, but exhaustion overrode any such qualms.

Slumber claimed her, and she knew no more.

* * *

Bilbo did not know what time it was when next she opened her eyes, but she knew that it was too early. There was not a hint of light within the tent, and Fili, who had always been one of the earliest risers within the Company, was sound asleep beneath her. Heat rushed into her cheeks at the realization that someone had decided to place her in Fili’s bed. She supposed it was the most logical place, as she could no longer steal a few hours of sleep here and there in between fretting over Thorin, taking what rest she could find slumped over with her head upon his chest. In the first few days, Dori had tried to convince her to take a tent of her own, but he eventually gave up when he realized that she could be every bit as stubborn as the dwarves when she had a mind to be.

She sniffled quietly. She did not know what she had expected to dream about when she laid her head down earlier, but memories of the battle would certainly not have been her first choice. Living through it once had been horrifying enough. Being forced to relive it should be considered torture.

For several long moments, Bilbo tried to relax and return to sleep in the hopes that her dreams this time would be better. She was weary all the way through her bones, and she dearly wished to find an escape from reality, but her heart was still racing too much from the images still dancing behind her eyes, and she could not calm it.

Finally, she gave up and ever-so-carefully withdrew from her place sprawled across Fili’s uninjured side, slipping out from under the covers. The icy night air bit at her the moment she was no longer flush against Fili’s radiant heat, but she forced herself not to react. The cold sharpness helped to clear her head, at least, so that was something.

Carefully, she lowered herself to the ground with a silent lament that she was forced to do so by touch. She dearly wished that the sky would hurry up and pelt them with freezing rain or with snow already, so that the clouds could disperse and allow them to see the moon and stars.

When she was reasonably certain that she had her bearings, Bilbo pulled the ribbon and the ring from around her neck and slipped her index finger through the band. She wrapped the ribbon around her hand and held it there with her thumb and then she slipped out of the tent, as noiseless as a spirit.

There was slightly more light beyond the cover of the tent, and it allowed her to tread to the edge of the camp without incident. There were dwarves and elves and Men at various parts of the perimeter, keeping watch, but as she had within the halls of the Woodland Realm and within the treasury of Erebor, Bilbo passed by them unseen.

She found a small, oblong boulder and sat upon it, gazing out into what little she could see of the gloom. As she sat, she forced herself to say goodbye to Thorin, remembering her thoughts from earlier in the day. She could not allow herself to continue to cling to Thorin when she had pledged herself to his nephew. It would be cruel to Fili and if she left her grief unchecked, it would cripple her.

So, she thought about all of the moments she had shared with Thorin, the good and the bad. That disastrous first meeting. The look in his eyes when he first saw her in Durin blue. His fury when she and Kili nearly fell in the mountain pass. The way he looked when she promised she would help him and the rest of his Company reclaim their home. Their first embrace, after Bilbo did her best to protect him from Azog and his followers. Going on walks with each other during the afternoons at Beorn’s and getting to know each other better. His face when she told him she had found a way to get them all out of Thranduil’s halls. His good-humored patience in the face of the horrendous mood her cold caused whilst they were in Lake-town. Holding hands as they searched for the door on Durin’s Day. His fierce demand that she come back to him unharmed once she finished scouting the mountain. The strange shadow that fell over him once the gold within the treasury began to work its mischief. When he gave her the mithril coat.

When he called her a thief and a traitor and many other things besides, and nearly threw her to her death.

His apology as she held him in her arms on the field of battle, which was the last time anyone saw his blue eyes open, and the only time he told her that he loved her.

All of these things she remembered, and then she did her best to lock them away in a spot deep within her heart.

Hours later, the sky was just beginning to lighten, and Bilbo pushed herself up to stand on numb legs. She nearly fell back upon the rock, but she caught herself, and she determinedly set one foot before the other and made her way back to the tent where her husband and his brother lay.  


* * *

Fili was awake when Bilbo returned. It was just light enough within the tent for her to watch as he scanned her for any signs that she was not as she had been before she slipped away. She saw the way that the tension in his face eased when he knew that she was unharmed. Bilbo swallowed under his scrutiny and struggled against the feeling that she was some errant tween, caught by her father after sneaking out for a night-time liaison with a lad. It was patently ridiculous that she should feel that way. She may have been younger than Fili in years, but by Hobbit reckoning, she was the elder of the two, having reached her majority nearly two decades previously, when Fili had only reached his majority shortly before the beginning of their quest.

She straightened her back and had to fight against the urge to tilt her head up in defiance. She would not be made to feel like an irresponsible child, but she would also not drag Fili into an argument. It would serve no purpose.

“I woke and you were gone. Where did you go?” Fili asked softly, his voice far less accusing than she expected it to be, based upon the reprimand she had seen in his eyes. In truth, he sounded worried, rather than angry.

Bilbo turned her gaze toward the floor. “I needed some air. And – and I needed to say goodbye. To Thorin, I mean. So, I went to the outskirts of the camp and stayed until the sun started to rise.”

She looked up in time to see Fili mastering some emotion and tucking it away. She thought perhaps it might have been fear.

“No one saw me,” she hastened to assure him. “As you know, Hobbits are quite good at going unseen when we wish, and I had no desire for company.”

Fili sighed and closed his eyes before holding out a hand towards her. She walked up to his bed and placed her hand within his. His large, strong hand held hers gently, and when he tightened his hold briefly, he did so with care so as to avoid crushing her far more delicate fingers. “You must understand, Bilbo, things are different now. You cannot wander off alone. I do not say this to keep you prisoner, but to keep you safe. If you do feel the need to go somewhere, you need to take someone with you.”

Bilbo, who had spent most of her tweens and the entirety of her adulthood living on her own, felt herself quail at the thought of never having another moment where she was truly alone. It had been one thing while on the quest, but it would be entirely another when they were in Erebor. Rather than explain the true source of her reluctance, though, Bilbo said, “Fili, there is too much to be done. You cannot expect me to drag one of our people away simply because I have itching feet.”

“I can,” he replied firmly, “and I do. You are not alone in this. From now on, I will have a guard with me wherever I go. Kili, as well, once he wakes.” The _if he wakes_ which went unsaid hung heavy in the air between them.

Bilbo sighed wearily, the previous day and the sleepless night dragging at her bones. “Fine, then. What poor soul would you suggest I have following at my heels like a small pup?”

For a moment, Bilbo thought Fili would react to her little dig, and she regretted it, but then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly before pinning her with a steady gaze. “Take Bofur. Bifur, as well, on the days he feels up to it. In doing so, you will be solving two problems at once. I know I included them as members of my counsel when we met with Dain earlier, but Bofur and Bifur, as you know, are hardly ones for diplomacy, which is what is most needed until we may return to the mountain. This will keep them occupied and it will ensure your safety when you are away from the rest of the group.”

Bofur. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief and nodded her acceptance of Fili’s terms. Aside from Fili and Kili, Bofur had been the first among the Company to extend her the hand of friendship, though naturally, it had been in his rather unique manner. Apparently, making her pass out had been some odd sort of hazing ritual, and once Bofur had accomplished that, he considered her a friend and took her under his wing. It was a bit bewildering, but at the time, Bilbo had been too grateful to have a companion to question it too closely. She could handle having Bofur with her when the strain of everything grew too deep. She would dearly miss her solitude, but the loss would be more bearable if Bofur was the one to guard her.

Fili closed his eyes gratefully and when he opened them, he told her, “Thank you. Do you think you might be able to sleep a little now? We have an hour or two before the day will truly begin.”

The fatigue which pulled at her body made itself all the more pronounced at the suggestion of rest, and though she normally would have balked, Bilbo did not hesitate before clambering up beside Fili and settling against his uninjured side. She placed her head upon his chest and felt his arm wrap around her after he dragged the blankets over her nearly frozen body. There was a faint touch against her crown which might have been Fili’s lips, and she heard him murmur, “Sleep.”

Within moments, she obeyed, her heart still sore and her mind and body past the point of exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who might be concerned: I realize that Fili may seem a bit controlling. That's not really what is going on here. He knows that Bilbo is a strong, smart, independent woman. He also has realized over the course of their journey that she has a terrible tendency to not take care of herself. Fili is a natural-born caretaker and protector, and if he sees that something needs to be done, he's just going to make it happen. At no point is this going to devolve into an abusive relationship.


End file.
